The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1887-10-01

aStOnlSn Jne BOTANICAL Society, WneH
saw little girl. certainly not more
than five or six years old, who was all
alone, crying as if her little heart
would break. l approached her, but
at sight of me she redoubled her cries.
/ could see that the little one was lost,
and that she did not know where to 90,
so l spoke to her kindly, and, by dint
of promising her unlimited bonbons,
Lizzie, and that she lived near Beres-
ford Place in Lower Abbey street. |
took her hand, and we soon started off,
talking together like old friends. She
was Il beautiful child. fresh and rosy,
with great, candid eyes and fair hair,
which was cut short over her eyes and
fell in golden ringlets about her
shoulders. She trotted bravely along,
her soft, little hand holding my great,
ruddy paw confidingly. As we walked
she told me remarkable tales, in which
figured big, black horse, little
knife, a doll, and number of people
did not know.
Lizzie was afraid she would be scold-
ed when she arrived home, but she was
not, and II was received with trans
ports by her mother, who was half dis
tracted. Never was gratitude expressed
so heartily and pleasantly. Who was
l, where did live, how did I happen to
find her, and thousand like questions
were showered upon me.
80, Mr. Furniss," said the mother,
''you are the savior of my child. How
can we express our gratitude? We are
not rich, but such debt can not be
paid in gold. How happy my husband
will be to repeat my thanks to you.
He is still at his office, but will you do
us great kindness. will you honor our
humble board tomorrow? l shall have
a savant here like yourself, and you
two will enjoy each others company, l
am sure. And my husband will be so
happy to have you"
l thanked her for the invitation, and
promised to be on hand.
At the appointed hour | was shown
into their modest parlor, and you may
be sure the husbands gratitude was no
less warmly expressed than the wife's.
And little Lizzie threw her arms around
my neck, and showered on me the in
nocent caresses of a happy child. l
seemed. indeed. to be one of the family.
The dinner was q merry one, the
savant seemed to be an interesting
man-in brief, l passed an excellent
evening.
The air had been heavy the whole
day, and in the evening storm came
on. Thunder-claps succeeded one an
other without interruption; the rain
fell in torrents. Whether it was the
effect of the storm, of the suffocating
heat. or of the wine had drunk, felt
breathe comfortably. l was about to
set out for home, however, for it was
late and my house was ut some dis
lance; but they insisted that | should
stay. 1t would be foolish to expose my
self to such n tempest, when | was not
feeling well; the mother begged me
with such a good grace that l felt
forced to remain and pass the night
in that hospitable house. They cere-
moniousfy conducted me to my room,
and there wished me good night. l re-
member, even, that Lizzie having fallen
asleep in her fathers arms, kissed her
little cheek, paled by sleep, and her
dimpled little arms.
Left alone, began to undress slowly
and wandering about the room, as one
always does when one sleeps in a
strange place. l felt rs if l should
smother in the close atmosphere of
the room. Before getting in bed, l
wanted to inhale little of the outside
air. and in spite of the roaring storm,
tried to open the window. 1t was a
false window.
"Well, WE'LL" | exclaimed, little
surprised.
l thought | would remove the CHM
ney-screen it was false chimney |
rushed to the door-it was locked! Fear
seized me, and, holding my breath, 1
listened. The house was quiet; all
seemed to be asleep. Then l inspected
the room carefully, straining my ears
for the least sound. On the floor, near
the bed, | noticed spots; it was blood
dried and blackened blood! | shud-
dered, and cold sweat stood out on
my forehead, Blood! Why should
there be blood there? And l saw that
whole sea of blood must have been
split therefor II great space around
the hard wooden floor had been freshly
scrubbed and scraped. All at once l
cried out. Under the bed | had seen a
man, stretched out, motiOnless as an
overturned statue. l could not cry or
call out. With trembling hands 1
touched the man. He did not move.
With trembling hands l pushed the
man; he did not move. With trembling
hands / seized the man by the feet and
drew him forth-he was dead! His
neck had been clearly cut, as with one
stroke of a razor, and the head held to
the trunk by Il slender ligament.
| thought | should 90 mad. But
something must be done-the assassin
might come at any moment. raised
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